The Legend of Spyro: Risen
by Cgaume12
Summary: Spyro and Cynder have taken power in Warfang. Bourgeoisie and Proletariat have become content in their lots, but are still on unequal terms. However, not everyone is willing to simply fall in line with Spyro's plans.
1. Chapter 1:Resistance

**Resistance**

**Here's the begining of the sequel to Rising,  
Therefore, you should probably have read Rising prior to readin this.  
Please R&R  
Enjoy**

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The small dragon peers past the trash can, his pursuers bolt around the corner and stop. Their bodies glimmer with perspiration and he can hear how the workout has taken a toll on their lungs. Both of the dragons glance around and then one with reddish brown scales removes a map of the city from his satchel.

"Let's see, from here he could have gone that way," the dragon points in the direction of his hiding spot, "towards downtown, or this way toward the west gate."

"Hmm, if he went downtown there would be a lot of people, he probably went that way to lose us in the crowds."

"Yeah, but wouldn't he have trouble running with all those people? He probably went towards the gate so he can get outside and fly back in anywhere he wants."

"I think you're right c'mon let's go before he gets away"

They put the map away and begin to run down the alley away from his hiding spot. He breathes a sigh of relief and leans back onto the trash can. The clang of metal on pavement alerts the two dragons, they turn around and see the smaller, yellow dragon.

"Uh oh!" he says.

He immediately starts to run as fast as he can toward downtown, the throng of people quickly comes into view and he knows there's no way he could keep this pace if he ran through the crowd.

"Get back here!" one of the dragons yells

"You'll be caught eventually! Just Give up now!" yells the other.

The dragon turns into a side alley at the last moment and continues running. The wall is coming fast, and his pursuers will turn the corner at any moment. He reachs within and funnels electricity into his leg muscles. He releases the energy and runs straight through the wall in a burst of speed.

'Ugh, still feels so weird to go through that fake wall.' he thinks with a shudder.

He turns around and sees his pursuers turning into the alley opposite his, 'Good, it worked.' He spins back around toward the enterance to the headquaters. The front facing facade was that of an expensive grocery store in which the prices were hiked so high not an item had ever been bought. It was preferred this way as none of the items were real either.

Within the building was where the small, nameless force that opposed receiving "the mark" had their meetings. The young, yellow dragon had joined up when a message he had been delivered had needed to be read to a blind dragoness. Though exactly why it was such a big deal he was unsure of, he did notice a slight difference in those near to him who had been marked.

"It's like they've had their conscious altered in order to match everyone else." is how the leader had first described it to him, "They go in with a gun held at their back, and come out holding it to yours."

In the month since the mayor had stepped down to a dragoness named Cynder, almost every dragon and dragoness in Warfang has been marked. It was, as she so eloquently put it, "A sign of equality and conformity. I'm not saying I condemn creativity, in fact I plan to increase funding for groups like IoTD, but having this mark will remind those who bear it that we are, as a community, one body that never benefits from disruption by it's parts."

The young dragon spins each of the eight dials on the lock until it reads, "21-14-13-1-18-11-5-4" after which the mechanism catches and the door opens of it's own accord. Within he sees that some dragons have already arrived for the meeting. One of them beckons him over.

"Hey! C'mon!" he frantically waves his arms back and forth until he finally reaches him.

"What's going on?" the young, yellow dragon says.

"Nothing, I just wanted to be the first one to say hello. I'm bored already, aren't you?"

"Not really, I was chased here."

"Ooh, did they see you go through the fake wall? They better not have, I don't want to be marked!"

"Of course not, I've never been caught before."

The door creaks open once again and five more dragons enter with the leader at their head. The other four join the ranks of those among the seats rounding out their number to a hearty fifteen.

"Alright, unfortunately to start today's meeting I must present some bad news, and our solution to said news." the leader says, "On this morning's news it has been announced that as of tomorrow all citizens of Warfang are to be on the lookout for any who do not bear the mark. Our solution, is to fake our marks until we can somehow get around receiving them."


	2. Chapter 2:The Ties That Bind

**The Ties That Bind**

**Thank you for reading.  
Please review if possible.  
If you looked at the number combonation in the last chapter before I fixed it it was wrong, should have read;**

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Proletariat gazes out over the collection of letters which littered his kitchen table, some are written with a steady, bold, flowing script, while others are a light, rushed scrawling. The content of each was similar though a few went into greater details of the events occurring in his brothers life. Once correspondence with Kaja had become commonplace, Proletariat had taken to underlining the important things she said or those which really stuck out to him. She was always mentioning how excited she was at the prospect of their first hatchling and how Bourgeoisie was slowly softening up until one day he received a letter that shredded his hopes. It was a simple letter, written in Kaja's average kind of day script. In the center of the letter were several intermittent, faded spots.

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Dear Proletariat,

Today was pretty good. Bourgeoisie and I had a nice, simple dinner and sat talking about plans for the girl we are expecting. When I brought up your name in a purposeful accident Bourgeoisie was a little apprehensive. We spoke about you for a few moments before he excused himself and well...I came in and he had already fallen asleep. Despite my hinting I don't think he's going to willingly meet with you anytime soon, but I won't give up and neither should you.

Your sister-in-law,

Kaja

* * *

Since then Proletariat had tried visiting Bourgeoisie where he worked in the capitol, but each time Bourgeoisie had "just left" or was "in a meeting" and couldn't attend to him. With Cynder as busy as she was there was never time to ask her advice and Spyro seemed to be in a world of his own, which was partly true. Spyro spent most of his time, which thanks to being able to draw his energy from others was almost unlimited, as he would say "initiating" citizens into him. Proletariat had gone for his the first day it was enforced because he knew Spyro already had access to his mind when he was weak, and he didn't want to be arrested.

_'I'm going to do it.'_ Proletariat thinks, _'I'm going to visit Bourgeoisie and Kaja at home tonight and I mean it this time!'_

* * *

Spyro stands in his new favorite spot at the pinnacle of the capitol building. He closes his eyes and calms his mind, allowing his conscious fluid to flow among all to whom he was connected. He easily found some of his favorite minds to explore, electric dragons. Most electric dragons thought so quickly that they took in every little detail, yet kept such a pace that they wouldn't notice them. He resists the urge to focus on one of them as there are more important things to attend to.

A young dragon having trouble supporting himself had just been caught stealing bread and was now running from the owner of the small bakery. Spyro enters the dragons mind and causes him to falter in his step by bringing out images of the death of his father. The dragon trips over his two feet and the baker, confused as to why he would suddenly stop, removes the bread from his hands and leaves him there. Eventually, Spyro reenters his mind and directs him toward a few places where he might find a job rather than stealing.

Satisfied, Spyro relinquishes the dragon and continues monitoring the city as a whole. Soon another presence at the hospital begins to bug him. An elderly dragoness is on the verge of dying after her breathing suddenly stopped and the doctors are trying to revive her. The constant flicker of her life ending and beginning again eventually annoys Spyro enough that he snuffs her out. The familiar companion of death washes over Spyro, it pats him on the back in farewell and fades as quickly as it arrived.

_'I hate that feeling,'_ he thinks_ 'and yet...it's like an addiction. How many lives have I needlessly ended to feel this...rush...far too many.'_

* * *

After the end of the lunch rush Proletariat takes his own lunch break, leaving his employees to man the turrets while he is away. He makes his way to the hospital where Kaja works, in hope of finding her and telling her he was going to make an appearance that night. As he walks into the unusually crowded waiting room he cringes at the assault on his senses. The stench of burns and fresh blood are the first scents he recognizes, after a moment the shrill cries of young dragons with minor injuries and sicknesses, and the soft moaning of elderly dragons plagued by more serious problems. Proletariat walks to the back of the line waiting at the front desk. Finally after a few minutes he comes to the front.

"Hi, um, I was wondering if I could speak with Kaja? I think she works in the delivery room."

"Well, I can call down and see if, one second please," the nurse picks up the telluphone, "Hello, St. Cyril's hospital how may I help you...of course does the twelfth work for you...good, we'll see you then." She replaces the telluphone and turns back to Proletariat, "anyway I'll call down in a minute and find out if she is busy, then I'll call you back up."

"Great, thanks."

"I guess you could try." Kaja says, "But I can't say he will do the same. The last time you saw each other he almost killed you. He was really angry then but he hasn't really gotten past it in the last two months, he hasn't said anything. For all I know he might be afraid to see you again for fear of hurting you!"

_'Hmm...Bourgeoisie must have not told Kaja about...then.'_ Proletariat thinks. "No matter what happens it is worth an attempt. What time would be good for you?"

"Well, Bourg usually comes home around eight and you wanted to be there before he gets there right?"

"Yes, that would probably be better."

"What time do you usually close up the restaurant?"

"Around six."

"Great, you can come right after, I should be home about then. I'll make something simple for dinner and tell Bourgeoisie I invited you for dinner when he gets there."

"Alright, well I better get back, I know the dinner rush will come around soon and they'll probably need me." Proletariat says with a laugh.

* * *

"Agh! Why do you have to be so difficult! You stubborn pack of mules!" Cynder shouts at the group of assembled officials. "How do you expect anything to get done if you argue about every miniscule detail!"

A murmur arises, some of the dragons who had worked under the old mayor were replaced but others were good at their jobs and remained in them. It wasn't that they didn't get along, they were generally a group that got things done. However, when it came to the issue of budgeting the cities money, many favored putting money toward whatever benefited themselves. The few of them who actually wanted what was best for the city were able to prevent any unnecessary laws being passed, that and they had Cynder on their side.

Bourgeoisie sat in the back of the room, he enjoyed having such a small position that he was placed as such. He rarely participated in debating as his opinion was his and his alone. He enjoyed watching the dragons in front of him, those who were against whoever was speaking were always writing or whispering to each other.

_'Ugh, this is a waste of her time. I'm sure she'll just have Spyro 'convince' them when the time comes for the voting. It will be a last minute change in opinion among those five down there, the simpletons without an opinion of their own. Only here to help sway the voting...'_ he thinks, _'This better get done soon, I still need to go out to the west side and check up on some things.'_

Cynder gives up on getting through to the hardheaded assembly, "...Since I know at least half of you have paid little to no attention to what I had to say, I'd like you to know I'm finished. I have one more thing I would like to say and it is something you need to hear. Therefore I am going to wait until you listen." Slowly the murmurs die down, several dragons had fallen asleep and have to be woken by their companions. "Good. The last thing I have to say to you is simply this. If we cannot agree on how to form the budget for this city, I will do everything in my power to have each and every one of you replaced. Anyone unwilling to compromise only holds us all back. Meeting adjourned."

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Kaja runs to the cooling box and pulls out some ice. _'Ugh, I always seem to hurt myself when I cook. Maybe I should have let Proletariat make dinner when he gets here.'_ She chuckles and then uses a cloth to attach the ice to her seared paw. She returns to stirring the pot of soup she has been simmering and to her thoughts about later that night. Then a knock on the door causes her to jump, flinging more of the hot soup onto her. She lets out a restrained scream and starts toward the living room.

"Kaja are you alright?" Proletariat yells from outside, "Do you need help?"

"No, I'm fine. Give me a moment." she says. She pulls a woolly, flowered blanket from the closet and places it on the couch, smoothing out every crease she can find. She then picks up the lampshade from where it had landed the past night and replaces upon the lamp. Finally, she puts some wood on the fire and gives it a little spark.

"Am I going to get to come in or did you change your mind?" Proletariat says.

"Very funny," Kaja says as she opens the door, "come on in."

"What's with the," Proletariat motions to the liquid and chunks on Kaja's body, "stuff?"

"I was making soup, your knocking startled me."

"Ooh, what kind of soup?" he asks

"Just some meat and vegetables I threw in the pot. It's nothing special."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"No, it needs to simmer for a while longer but there isn't anything to do for it but wait, here have a seat." she says beckoning toward the couch.

"Alright, I guess we'll just...talk. How's almost being a mother?"

"It's great, except for the voracious appetite and mood swings."

"Yeah," Proletariat says with a chuckle, "since you already know it's a girl, do you have a name picked out?"

"We're waiting until she's born since we can't see what color she is, but we do have a few in mind."

"So you are completely psyched? No fears or worries?"

"Actually, I don't think I really know...how to be a mother."

"Why is that?" Proletariat says as his eye ridges shift downward.

"Didn't Bourgeoisie ever tell you?"

"I don't think so...oh, right. Yeah, I know what you're talking about." he says. 'I completely forgot to tell her about Cynder! Is now a good time...oh shes saying something again-'

"...was hard growing up without a mother. If I had known one then maybe...forget that, it's the past."

"Kaja, do you remember the day that we last were all together? The day of the fire."

"Yes, what about it?"

"I was running late that day because I was talking to someone and, it's someone I trusted then and still do even after what happened in the past month, but we were talking and I asked her about your father, not knowing that she really knew him at all-"

"Um, could you please get to the point."

"Sure, well I was talking to her and when I asked about Titan she went on a bit about how they had worked together and then said how she was your mother."

"What! That's nonsense, my mother died when I was a hatchling. She had problems when she laid my egg."

"No, from what Cynder said and how she said it, I know she was telling the truth. I meant to tell you that night but, well you know... and after that so much else happened it slipped my mind until now."

Kaja looks at him for a moment, 'How can that be true?' she thinks. "If she is my mother why has she never come to even meet me?"

"She wanted to, but with Spyro not knowing about you she couldn't for fear of him hurting you or Titan. She also said that whenever you had achieved something she was there for you, whether you noticed or not. She wants to get to know you now that there is no obstruction to it."

"I- have a- mother." Kaja says. Her breathing begins to quicken, her mind flooded with memories of when she needed a mother and was without, and all the times her father lied to her about it. Her heart rate spikes and she begins to perspire. Soon she slumps downward onto the floor.

"Kaja? Kaja are you alright!" Proletariat runs over to her and taps on her shoulder, lightly shaking her. "Kaja!"

* * *

_'I bet Kaja will be happily surprised to see me home early today.'_ Bourgeoisie thinks as he turns onto his street.

He steps up onto the porch and turns the handle._ 'Hmm, Kaja usually has it unlocked for me. Oh, right I'm early.'_ he chuckles as he fishes in his satchel for the key. _'Ugh, hope I have it...ah, there it is.'_ he shoves the key in the lock, unlocks it and triumphantly pushes the door all the way open. The sight that meets his eyes does nothing to please him.

Kaja lies in the middle of the floor, she is breathing very heavily and her eyes are barely open. Proletariat was slowly move away from her as he opened the door and now looks Bourgeoisie straight in the eyes.

"Oh, Bourgeoisie, we weren't expecting you this early. I was-"

"I can see exactly what you were doing!"

Kaja, by this time, has mostly come to. "Bourgeoisie, did you know that-"

"Not now, I'll deal with you later Kaja. You," he points toward Proletariat, "what do you think you are doing here, let alone with my mate!"

"If you let me-"

"Just stop there and get out! I don't care why you were here, I don't care what you say you were doing, and I certainly don't care about you!"

"Bourgeoisie," Kaja says, "wait a second and let one of us speak."

"Why does he deserve to speak,and don't bother answering! Proletariat either you get out of this place and never come back or I'll do much worse than I did last time."

"Fine, I'm leaving. I just hope you listen to Kaja once I'm gone, because I know her well enough that she won't tell you a lie." Proletariat backs slowly into the kitchen area and exits through the back door.

"How can you treat him like that!" Kaja rights herself and then continues, "You come in here and see him and me, and you jump to conclusions, huh? Let me tell you that I invited him here."

"Why would you do that! You know I-"

"Stop right there! You have no reason to be angry with him. He came to me today _wanting _to come to settle whatever it is between you. How can you blame him for someone else burning down our home?"

"It said in the letter that-"

"A letter, now your blaming it on a letter! Do you want to know why I was on the floor? Because Proletariat gave me the greatest news I've heard since I was born. He told me my mother is alive, and that she is the mayor, Cynder!"

"How could that be she doesn't even...now that I think about it...you do look a lot like her as far as appearances. But how do you know he's telling the truth?"

"Cynder told him. That's why he was late the day of the- you know."

"Of course..."

"But you drove him out for no reason. He was only here to make amends and you were repulsed by just seeing him!"

"Well, what else did you expect with how you were lying on the floor like that, I...I might be able to catch up to him if I'm quick!"

He turns his bulky body around as quickly as he can. He jumps from the porch and bounds down the road.

"Proletariat! Proletariat wait!" he yells.

Proletariat hears his brother yelling his name and flaps his wings even faster. He ascends out of sight and Bourgeoisie stumbles to a stop. He places his head in his hands, as his brother had over a month before, and allows months of pent up emotion to flow from his eyes.

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**That's that, still looking for names for the yellow dragon and resistance group.  
I am thinking of doing kinda-songfic based on a song derived from Shakespeare's The Tempest and I need four OC couples so if you review you can put yours there or send me a PM**

**Thanks again for reading**

**~Cgaume12**


	3. Chapter 3:One Dragon's Trash

**One Dragon's Trash...**

**This chapter and therefore some of the plot to the rest this story, was inspired by Kaffir Boy by: Mark Mathabane**

**I hope you enjoy this little read, the name for the dragon is inspired by someone I know.  
Reviews, feedback, flames, comments, concerns, Pm's, hate mail, etc. all welcome.**

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"This thing is annoying, it feels like I have a snake coiled around my tail." the tall, azure dragon says to his companion, "I know it will keep us from getting caught and marked, but really, how can you stand this that thing Bayne?"

The smaller, yellow dragon looks up at him and says "Stop complaining Iysce, it's just a band. Would you rather submit and be marked?"

"Well, no but...It's still uncomfortable." Iysce replies.

The two dragons continue walking side-by-side down the deserted street. The meeting had run late after having to equip everyone with makeshift markings. They consisted of two concave mirrors attached to a band that would stretch around their tail-blade without snapping. From a distance they looked believably realistic, enough to keep them safe from anyone more than a few feet away. They continue a few blocks further until they come to Bayne's street.

"Well, I guess I aught to get home, I'm sure my small, empty house is worried about me."

"Do you have to? Some friends and I are getting together tonight at our favorite spot. We've got some food and are going to just hang for a while." Iysce says.

"Do I know anyone who'll be there?" Bayne asks.

"Well, Scandt, Eliah, and Fyre are coming, you know them from the meetings. The others are pretty nice though, plus you know me, that's already step in the right direction."

"I guess I could come for a while, not like I have much else to do."

"Great, just wait 'til you see the place." Iysce says. They continue down the main street and turn down the alley toward the western gate. The guards on duty stare at them as they approach. "Play along Bayne, I know what I'm doing."

"Passes please," one of the guards says.

"Sir, we don't have passes." Iysce replies, "However, given the chance I can explain."

"Fine, impress me." he says.

"Well you see sir, I just got my mark today, I had been ill for quite a while and unable to go, and because I can't get a pass until tomorrow I don't yet have one."

"You obviously know anyone who wants to legally exit the city needs a pass. Your story makes sense because your marking is a little different...but what about him?" the guard looks over to Bayne.

"I've never tried going outside the city in a long time. I had no idea I needed some sort of identification..." Bayne says.

"Well, you do. It doesn't matter how often you leave the city a pass is still required."

"Are you sure we can't...change your mind?"

"No, you can't. Come back tomorrow night and maybe you can go through."

"Okay, thanks anyway." Iysce says.

The two dragons turn and walk a short distance along it until they are out of the guards sight, at that point Iysce flys right over the wall, Bayne soon following him.

"What was the point of that if you knew we couldn't get through?"

"I thought the 'marks' would be enough...passes must be a new way Cynder's keeping us under control. C'mon it's not too far to our destination."

The forest shrouds the two dragons in shadow as they make their way deeper into it. Soon a smell make it's way to Bayne's nostrils.

"What is that stench?" he asks.

"Didn't I tell you we are going to the trash dump?"

"Uh no, actually you didn't."

"Well we are." Iysce says

Suddenly a gaping hole opens up in the forest, several dragons are already standing around the rim of the dump. Mountains of waste and junk dot the expanse, casting shadows in the fading sunlight. Several individual dragons and other creatures appear occasionally throughout the dump, sitting around fires or sleeping on worn out mattresses. On the far side of the dump stands what seems to be a village. Several hatchlings ran around among the shacks, while their families were scrounging through the outskirts of the dump.

_'How do they live like this.'_ Bayne thinks, _'Does anyone even know they are here?'_

As if by magic Iysce says, "These people actually get by pretty well here. Several of them work in the city and are marked, but most of them just get by with what they can find here."

"Why do you come here?" Bayne asks.

"Well most of these guys are pretty awesome, they welcome us here openly despite their struggles. Plus they enjoy my bonfires."

"Bonfire?"

"Of course, that was my original reason for coming here. Last time I had a bonfire in my yard I got arrested because it got a bit outta control. Oh, here's our spot."

Bayne looks over and sees a blackened area eight feet in diameter surrounded by steep hillsides, a wooden platform juts about three feet out into it and wraps the whole distance around. Some residents of the dump are throwing trash and broken furniture into the pit.

"Hey Iysce!" a female voice sounds from behind them. Bayne turns and sees a slender earth dragoness coming from the same direction they had arrived. Her red underbelly and impressively large horns make her easily recognizable. "Oh, Bayne is here too huh?"

"Yeah, Iysce here talked me into it," Bayne says, "How's your 'mark' treating you Scandt?"

"Just fine, thank you. So, Iysce, when are the others supposed to be here, because I know I'm a little late and they aren't here."

"Some of them are already gathering material, and Eliah was gonna pick up something for everyone at the fire to eat. Other than that I don't know, but if they're not here we can just start without them."

"Good, I'll go find something for you to start tonight with." Scandt says.

"Alright, we'll be down after I explain what we need to Bayne here." Iysce turns toward Bayne as Scandt makes her way into the dump, casually talking to those she passes by. "Basicly," Iysce continues, "anything you can find out there that can't be used by the people living here is fair game as firewood. Don't get rotten stuff though, it just stinks and makes a thick smoke."

"How far should it be filled up?"

"We keep it going all night, most people like throwing in odd things and watching how they burn. Speaking of which, if you find any trashed medicine give it to me."

"Why would you need that?"

"Two reasons, first of all these people have medical problems too and while I'm no expert I can sometimes give them something to help and the trust me. Second, if it's out dated or otherwise useless almost all medicine makes awesome popping sounds when thrown in the fire!"

"Right, I'll be on the lookout."

Bayne reluctantly enters the dump, having spent several minutes around it the smell no longer had an effect on him. He strolls along among the bountiful mountains of solid waste, occasionally picking up something that looked in poor enough condition to be burned. The citizens of the dump sometimes wave or tilt their head in acknowledgment as he passed, at the end of the row he was in was what he least expected to find.

_'Showers?'_ he thought.

One of them suddenly flys open and Bayne gasps at what meets his eyes. Stepping out of one of the two communal showers is a creature that walks on two legs. It is covered in dark blue scales with patches of intermittent gray and black fur dotting it's body. It's tail is long and slender, completely covered by fur until the end which covered in a grisly red flesh. The creature looks up at him, smiling, but once it sees how he is studying it it walks toward him with a scowl.

"You must be new around here." it says, it's voice is masculine and rather pleasing to the ear.

"No, sir. I'm here with some, uh, friends for the bonfire. I was gathering materials and, uh." Bayne attempts to explain himself.

"Stop right there. It's alright, I'm used to the looks. Everyone acts that way the first time they see me. But I can tell you mean no harm." the creature extends a paw toward Bayne. It is scaled like the rest of his body but in place of dragon claws are pads, "I'm Kaseos, the sole cheedragon in existence."

"I'm Bayne," he grabs his paw in greeting and then returns to all fours, "sorry to ask this of a stranger, but can you show me back to the bonfire? I really don't know my way around here."

"Yeah, I was on my way there anyway." After walking a short distance down the row Kaseos speaks again. "I can tell that marking is fake. I've seen enough of them in my time to know."

"Wha-What do you mean?" Bayne says nervously.

"Don't worry, I live out here to escape his touch, he has no control here. I know all about you and your 'friends' I made those fake markings you wear."

"You did?" Bayne asks.

"Yep, I live here not only because of my appearance but because of what I know."

"What you know?" Bayne asks.

Kaseos bursts out in uproarious laughter, "Do you not know the sole reason as to why you rebel against being marked? The control. I was 'initiated' three years ago, and often times I would feel the touch of whoever had made it. I have no idea how or who is doing this but I know it drove me to the brink of insanity, but I fought it. I fought and won! I never gave in! That's why I must stay here, to help fight it."

Bayne is speechless, he has no knowledge of what Kaseos was saying. They continue walking in silence. The young dragon imagines a shadowy figure floating above the city, everyone in it trance-like and advancing upon him. He turns and runs away only to have his path blocked by more and more people appearing out of nowhere. He's trapped in a corner of the city walls, dragons coming from all sides toward him, and no escape available over the wall either.

At that moment they turn to face the bonfire, Iysce stands opposite them having just dropped a bottle of his most volatile concoction into the fire pit. The resulting blast, while minor, catches Bayne off guard. He snaps his view forward and sees Iysce, on his hind legs with forepaws lifted, through the rising fire. He then teeters for a few moments and falls over. The last thing he sees are several sets of legs coming in his direction, both real and imagined.

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**Reviews, feedback, flames, comments, concerns, Pm's, hate mail, etc. all welcome.**

**I am still in need of OC couples for a fic inspired by a song inspired by Shakespeare, it's an 'Anti-Ember' fic with a happy ending for Ember.**


	4. Chapter 4:Shifting Sands

**Shifting Sands**

**This is a very short chapter, but I felt ending it where I did was most effective.  
I felt like expressing my poetic qualities today.  
Please feel free to flame, PM, review, send hate mail, rant anonmously about how much you hate this trash story or anything else you feel necessary, as long as I get some feedback.  
Thanks, enjoy.**

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The blackness slowly turns to an orange hue, the silence becomes the din of voices. Numbness replaced by something firm beneath him, the smell of burning wood and fabric permeate the area. Bayne shifts upon the mattress on which he was lain, Iysce and Kaseos stand off to his right, looking out over the fire.

"So, what more can you tell me about Bayne?" Kaseos asks.

"I don't know much." Iysce replies as he throws another bottle of liquid into the fire and grins as it rekindles, "I just know before he joined he was a messenger, and now he still is, for us."

"Hmm, I knew I recognized him. He went in and out for...him...delivering all kinds of stuff. Back then I was a bit more...reserved."

"Yeah, I remember the first time I met you, I can still find glass under my scales sometimes."

"I thought you said you wouldn't talk about that!" the cheedragon turns toward Iysce and clenches his fists.

"Calm down! I was joking, plus no one can hear us anyway."

"With your loud mouth I wouldn't be surprised if they could!" Kaseos yells.

The pair then begins laughing hysterically. Every few moments they would almost stop, look at each other again and break into another fit of giggles and gasps. Eventually they are lying on the ground outside the platform trying to control themselves. Bayne rights himself and walks over to the pair, they immediately stop and pull themselves from the ground.

"I have something important to ask, and I need you two to be serious about it." Bayne says. The two nod their heads and so he continues, "Who, specifically, is this he to whom you refer, Kaseos?"

"Well, I can't give you a straight answer, as this is also an enigma I have long pondered; however I will do my best." Kaseos says.

* * *

Spyro lies in his bed, sleep taunting him from the depths of his mind. _'That's not an option yet, too much else to accomplish.' _he once again removes from himself his consciousness. He searches through the city, occasionally brushing past the dreams of others. Some grand and adventurous, others simple but robust; however the majority of these dreams were those full of lust and conceitedness.

_'Ugh, once everyone has been marked, that's the first thing to go.'_ he thinks.

He pushes further toward the four walls of the city where the guards are just switching shifts. He enters the minds of all the guards who were heading home. 'Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing,hmm...' he stops within one of the inner, west gate guards' minds. He replays an event from several hours prior.

_Two dragons walked up to me. I asked them for their passes and they were genuinely surprised. The tall, blue one did much of the talking. He told me how he had been sick and was just marked today. It was believable but he still needed a pass. The other, yellow one said he never left the city and didn't have a pass. Their marks were odd, I assume it is because they were fresh._

_'Hmm,'_ Spyro thinks as he ditches the guard's mind to continue surveying the city, _'I didn't mark them anytime recently, and if I had I would know their names. Looks like there's two more non-compliant citizens to find and conform.'_ He sighs, _'Why can't they all just submit, plus now we know about the fake markings.' _Eventually he becomes bored of scanning the city and pulls back into his own mind.

He shifts his body over on the bed and looks over to his mate. _'"When by all you have been abandoned. When by all you are condemned. When the stars fall and the moon is alight. I will stand by your side. When mountains crumble, when cities fall, still by your side I stand. I'll hold you when you falter and catch you when you fall. My love for you will never end. I will hold you 'til the day you die and cherish you until I too, fall into the blackness of the afterlife where we can once again be together." We said those words, both of us. Never imagining that it would come to that, and yet it has. Soon your faithfulness will be strained, and I will be the cause of it.'_

Spyro begins to drift into an uneasy sleep. His thoughts plagued by the prospect of finally establishing perfection. It was within his grasp and no one was going to stand in the way of that. _'..and if I am correct, when I pass into the abyss...they will all come with me. It seems like Malefor was right...I am destined to start a new world whether I mean to or not.'_


	5. Chapter 5: Amends

**Amends**

**Once again, thank you for reading this story.  
I appreciate the reviews I have received so far both for this and Rising.**

**Please review if possible.**

* * *

Bourgeoisie hated himself. After spending the past month making all kinds of excuses to avoid Proletariat, afraid of reigniting his anger that had almost sputtered out, and then to ruin it with one misconception. Sending him down another spiraling path which he would have to traverse to mend the crevice between them.

A warm, leathery neck wraps it's way around his back. "Bourg, it's okay. I probably would have thought the same thing." He lifts his head and carefully rises to his feet. He wraps his own neck around the back of his mate, relishing the undeserved comfort he was receiving. "Even this new wound will heal."

"Yeah, but wounds leaves scars." Bourgeoisie slowly pulls out of the embrace. He looks into the eyes of his mate and quickly snaps away from her. "I'm going after him."

"You're sure you're ready?"

Bourgeoisie sighs. Is he ready? He wants to get past it but would he be able to approach Proletariat in the right way? He would have to try his hardest, it's all he could do. "Yes, I need to go."

"I'm coming with you, Proletariat and I have been send letters back and forth so I know him well enough to help you both."

"Alright, we'd better go before it's too late. I'm guess you know where he lives, right?"

"Just follow me and we'll be there quick."

* * *

Proletariat slowly descends upon the paved street outside his home._ 'That didn't turn out how I thought it would.... Now it's going to be even harder to fix this whole thing. I shouldn't have even bothered.'_

He steps up to and unlocks the door, pulls on the rusty handle and it comes off into his paw, 'Great, one more little thing to fix.' he throws the doorknob into a pile of loose roofing shingles and siding. He slowly slinks inside and slumps down into his chair.

Soon he is deep in thought about ways he could temporarily fix the door, and permanently fix him and his brother. The silence feeds him no solutions so he flicks on the lamp and walks up to the television. He turns it on and receives static, after a few adjustments to the antenna the static dissipates. He turns the dial on the set until he finds a good show. He settles on a reality show about a family with eight hatchlings, and problems. At that time, two of the oldest hatchlings are fighting over a piece of meat.

"No, stupid! I deserve it! I'm the biggest!" a chubby hatchling yells.

"Your just fat! I'm the oldest!" says the other.

"Mama! Mama he called me fat!"

"She called me stupid first!"

"Both of you need to apologize and share that meat, there's plenty." the mother says as she walks through the room carrying two newborn hatchlings.

"But-"

"No buts! Listen to your mother!" the Father yells from outside the room.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too! Hug!" The hatchlings' embrace lasts a few seconds before they begin tearing at the meat.

_'Why can't everything be that simple for Bourgeoisie and I....' _Proletariat thinks. He presses the button on the television and the screen becomes dark once again. He settles into his chair, and goes back into his deep thinking. Then he feels something, it's a familiar feeling but rather than dreading it, he embraces it. The presence seems to jump back at his open contact, then it submerges itself into his mind.

_'Oh, it's you.' _It says.

_'Yeah, um Spyro, I need your advice.'_

_'I know, and I know the subject matter. Why should I bother?'_

"_You caused this! You should help me get out of it!'_

_'Alright, well him and his mate are coming now. I felt his out of control emotions and her concern for both of you heading this way a few minutes ago.'_

_'What kind of out of control emotion are we talking about here? Should I run or grab a tissue box?'_

_'It was but a brief touch so I could not tell, and they are already here.'_ The creaking of the porch and frantic knocking confirms that Spyro was correct.

_'What do I do!'_

_'Well, common courtesy would be that you open the door and say, "Hello, how may I help you?", but you could always ignore it until they leave'_

_'Good idea!'_

_'No you idiot! Answer the door, I'll help you talk to him.'_

Proletariat approaches the door, shakily reaching his claw out to turn the lock. It clicks open and he pushes the door outward. Kaja stands just outside the reach of the door, Bourgeoisie is behind her looking down and frowning. He looks up at Proletariat and grins sheepishly.

"How can I help you?" he says.

"Bourgeoisie wanted to come work this ugly thing out, I offered to come a long." Kaja replies.

"Come on in. Have a seat wherever." They make their way into the room, Bourgeoisie pauses for a moment and makes eye contact with his brother. They maintain each others' gaze for several moments before both brothers look down. Proletariat takes his usual place in his chair while the other two sit opposite on the floor.

_'Let him initiate the conversation, that way you don't seem like the aggressor.' _Spyro advises

"Proletariat, I-I'm so sorry...I had my reasons for being angry and the that letter just..." Bourgeoisie starts, "I was mad at everyone, and I was tired. I felt like I had no control at all."

_'Tell him...'_

"I understand, I've had moments where I felt the same way. But today, I felt betrayed. More so than before, at least then there was chaos to fuel it. I can understand why you would think what you did but I promise you it was nothing like what you think."

"I know, Kaja explained it to me. I tried to catch you after you left but you were already gone."

"I heard you, so I flew faster.... I figured you were after me." The conversation's gap seems to last forever. Bourgeoisie's eyes close and he frowns for a while until he finally speaks up.

"I know that I'm at fault here. I've attacked you, avoided you, and generally held you in a position of hatred, and I'm sorry I was so dense. There's no magic answer to this whole thing, it will take time but I hope today we can make a first step. I can't go on without you, you know me better than anyone ever has, or will."

_'You should be able to respond to that, right Proletariat?'_

"Bourgeoisie, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that. Why did you avoid me for so long though? We could have had this fixed by now."

"I know, but, um.... Kaja," he says turning slightly toward his mate, "I've been lying to you. Some of the money I was supposed to be bringing home has gone...elsewhere."

"What do you mean?" she replies.

Turning back to Proletariat, he says, "I've got a little surprise ready for you. It's taken a while but now it's finished." His eyes light up and his tail suddenly comes to life, swinging about behind him. "I can't tell you what it I. However I want you both to meet me at the Capitol building after you get off work tomorrow."

"Sure, I'll be there."

"Well, I'm glad you two made some progress, probably more than I can see, but I'm really tired. I hope you won't mind if we get out of here, Prole."

"No, no that's fine." Proletariat stands up, "I need to eat something anyhow."

Bourgeoisie and Kaja get to their feet, stretching their cramped limbs. The brothers share a short, somewhat reluctant embrace before Bourgeoisie and Kaja take off into the darkened sky.

* * *

_'Looks like I did pretty well fixing that mess.'_ Spyro thinks, now of his own mind, _'I had to cause it so I had no reason not to assist, and I'm glad I did.'_


	6. Chapter 6: Dumbfounded

**Dumbfounded**

**I wrote this today after being stuck all week. I know its short but, leaves two open ends for next time.**

**Please review, I know more people than Cornys and Zerospyro read this.**

* * *

_'Why didn't I just fly?' _ Bayne thinks as he slowly shuffles through downtown. Despite the sun having risen only two hours prior the streets were packed. Merchants and business owners hocking their wares and customers attempting to haggle the prices even one coin. Suddenly, the dragon in front of him stops. He turns to maneuver around him and sees that everyone is stopped. Their blank stares tell him that it probably has to do with the 'mind control' Kaseos had so little information about. Bayne quickly pushes past the idle pedestrians, heading toward his destination. As he reaches the edge of the crowd a tall dragon stops him.

"I've got him! He's right here!" the dragon yells.

"Yeah that's him!" another shouts. Bayne realizes something isn't right. He pulls away from the dragon and runs toward the alley.

"Don't let him escape!" He dashes down the alley desperate, despite not knowing why he was being chased, to escape the throng that followed him.

_'Only a few blocks and I'll be safe!' _However soon after he thinks this he feels something wrap around his midsection and lift him into the air. Looking up, he sees a yellow dragon above him. He looks to be about Bayne's age but is much larger and more muscular. His flat, ovular tail-blade sits near Bayne's head, preventing him from turning that direction. He attempts to struggle free of his grip, only to receive a tight squeeze from the dragon carrying him. He gives him self over and hangs limp under his captor. As they approach the capitol building Bayne sees a large, purple dragon standing upon the roof. His captor sets him down next to the dragon and then lands a ways off.

"Why thank you Bourgeoisie, who knew you would catch our little fugitive here." the purple dragon says.

"Thank you for helping walk me through last night. Without your assistance I wouldn't have had the words to speak to Proletariat, or at least not the right ones." Bourgeoisie answers.

"Quite, well I think I should go take care of our friend here, maybe once I get through to him we can find his friend and others that have evaded me." the purple dragon ushers Bayne into the building with an occasional bolt of electricity. Bourgeoisie follows them in order to begin his daily routine.

* * *

"There you are Proletariat! Now we just need to wait for Kaja to get here." Bourgeoisie says as his brother crosses the square to meet him.

"Yeah, I had one couple who had some trouble...eating. I had to wait for them to finish." Proletariat explains.

"I get some people who are like that. Take forever to finish the simplest of business like signing something."

"What are you guys complaining about now?" Kaja says, suddenly appearing behind the two.

"Slow people." they both say. The three laugh for a moment, and then Bourgeoisie says, "I guess we should get going huh?"

* * *

"This looks familiar Bourgeoisie, where are we going?" Proletariat asks.

"Just wait."

"Alright, I don't see why you can't just-" Proletariat pauses. Only able to flap his wings and stare. "You didn't!"


	7. Chapter 7:Wheels of Time

**Wheels of Time**

**I'm finally, kinda back. Seeking will probably take priority over this til it's done but I felt I should updated this too. Thanks a lot for reading and please leave some sort of feedback.**

**

* * *

**

Bayne's eyes slowly open once again. He blinks a few times, allowing the dim light to fill his eyes. He finds himself on a makeshift bed stuffed with some sort of grass. He glances around, scanning the room for anything that might tell him where he is. In the center of the room is a pillar, topped by a chest-like device. The walls are bare, and smoothed into a rounded shape. Finally he notices a desk, at which sits the purple dragon who had taken him upon the roof. Hearing him wake, the dragon finishes what he had been writing, a new law for Cynder to consider, and makes his way toward Bayne.

"Hello, I'm Spyro. I'm sure you'd like to know who I am, since I already know all about you." Spyro says.

"What do you mean?" Bayne replies. He sits up on the bed and looks Spyro in the eyes.

"You think that hole in your tail is for decoration? I guess I'll give you the basic run-down, though I expected a rebel to be more educated about what he was against." Spyro takes a seat upon the bed next to Bayne. He wraps his tail around Bayne's body, the way a father would when a hatchling made a mistake. "You see, that little hole in your tail is a well full of information for me, and protection from the bad things in life for you. Along wi-"

"Wait a second! I still don't have any idea what you are saying!." Bayne interrupts.

"Hmm, rather impatient aren't you? Fine I can demonstrate and give you this whole spiel in one shot."

Bayne flinches as hundreds of words rush simultaneously through his consciousness. Somehow he is able to pick up on every word, and after sifting through it for a moment everything makes sense, and his hope is gone.

"So as you can now see," Spyro continues, "you can be a functioning member of our society. Within the network of minds all interconnected to me."

"Alright, I know what you've done, any chance of finding out why?" Bayne pulls lightly away from Spyro and turns his head toward him.

"Why? What do you mean by why?"

"What's the point of these marks. What do you accomplish with this whole thing?"

"Didn't you understand from what I told you in your mind? I did all this to make things as close to perfect as can be! I can stop crime before it happens, vanish disagreements with one thought, give those that are near death the energy to live. I can-"

"No, I get that. I mean what is your real goal?

"Real goal?" Spyro says, tilting his head in mock confusion.

"Yes, what are you _really_ trying to do?"

"Were I to tell you that I wouldn't be able to let you remember it."

"You can do that?"

"Of course, if I let any of the general public remember being marked, they would all hate me. It would be chaotic."

"Would you answer my question about it after, before wiping it out of my mind?"

"That would depend on the question."

"Hmm...alright go for it." Bayne says.

"Okay then, first you need some history to give you a perspective. The best way I can give you it is through my own memories. I'm giving you a flashback, of the worst, yet also best, days in my life. By combining my own memories with that of the other who was there, it will seems as though you were walking with us."

Slowly Bayne begins to feel something. His mind becomes clear of thought, taken over. A severe yet bearable heat descends upon his mind and he begins to hear several voices....

"_...there has to be another way!"_ Bayne turns his consciousness toward the voice. Amidst the blazing inferno he sees a younger Spyro, accompanied by a black dragoness and an elderly, red dragon.

"_Spyro, Cynder..." the elderly dragon says to them, "I've never done right by either of you. Allow me to do this..."_

"_What are you saying?" Spyro exclaimed._

"_My path ends here, but yours lies beyond this. Draw strength from each other, and follow your heart...It will never fail you...now go.... Go.... Go!_

Bayne's view was quickly obscured by a blue light, it consumed him and the vision ended. The fires slowly faded back into the dimly lit room he had been in. Once he knew he was back he looked over to Spyro. His eyes brimmed with tears but he did not allow them to fall.

"I lost my mentor and close friend to that blazing land. He introduced me to a world beyond that which I had known. He helped me find myself and he is my goal. I will bring him back."

"Bring him back? How can you-"

"Time. With my abilities, anything that I have the energy for is possible. Over my short lifetime I have experimented with time travel once. It was by accident when I was using what's called 'Dragon Time.' I let loose some convexity and...it stuck, suspended in the air. I went forward and touched it and was sucked within. I felt something pulling at me but I didn't know what to do or what was going on at the time. Eventually I was near becoming unconscious, my energy was low and I was beginning to slip. Realizing my energy was being drained by the fact I was still controlling time, I stopped. After that I went unconscious and when I woke it was morning, of the day before when I left."

"You mean you lived that day more than once?"

"Yeah, and almost at the cost of my life. However, I have found an opportunity to make it work. Over the past ten years I have been storing up energy by draining small amounts from a few dragons who I...tricked into being marked. Now with all these new bodies to drain, I can store up even more! When I finally decide to do it I can just kill everyone! Because once I save Ignitus, my old life will go differently, I'll never kill Cyril, probably never discover what my blood can do, and since I'll never mark anyone, they will still all live! It's perfection!"

"How is that perfect? You're killing all of those- all of us, in order to supposedly travel back in time?"

Footfalls coming from above distract Spyro from responding, slowly they descend and are topped off by a knock at the door.

"We've got another one." a voice on the other side of the door says.

"Good bring him in." Spyro replies. Turning to Bayne he says, "So sorry, but it seems we have to cut our session short. I'll go ahead and put you into another mental coma so you'll forget this whole conversation."

"No! You can't! I won't let you do this. I'll-" Bayne cuts himself off. He begins groggily drifting from side to side, before toppling over onto the bed.

_'Heh, quite a weak mind on that one. Bet he could be put to some expendable use gathering up some of his old friends, definitely could be.' _Spyro thinks.

The door bursts open and a blue dragon is shoved into the room. Spyro recognizes him and smiles fiendishly.

"You must be Isyce." he says, "I'll be glad to get to know you as only I can."


	8. Chapter 8: Home

**Home**

**What's this? Another chapter for Risen? Really? Yes, indeed it is and I plan to put out another later this weekend. I've been absent from this story due to lack of ideas, but I've got somewhere to go with it now and I'm grabbing the bull by the horns, or in this case the dragon.**

**Anyway, it's a little bit short still, but please read and, if possible, review.**

* * *

Proletariat never imagined he would see it again, and yet here he is standing feet away from the home he spent his life in. All those rainy days spent inside with his family. Wrestling with Bourgeoisie, and losing, or listening to stories from his mother and father. If only they were there. Those last days with his father had been hard upon Proletariat and despite being glad to spend the time with him rather than leaving him alone, each night he couldn't hold back the tears at knowing the next morning he could be gone. If Bourgeoisie intended for him to live here he would recall many joyful memories, but be assaulted by grief at the same time.

"Hey Prole, you gonna stand there all day or go inside?" Bourgeoisie says.

Proletariat turns toward him; he smiles and nods. Bourgeoisie smiles back and directs him toward the door with a raised paw. He steps forward and onto the porch, still wary of entering. What if it were all a mirage, or he was asleep and dreaming? It felt real; the wind, the smells of wood, the musky scent that Bourgeoisie gave off, but was it? He shakes his head and pushes open the door.

[][][]

The sunlight gently nudges Bayne awake; he stands from his bed and stretches his legs. Looking out the window, he sees many out on the streets, returning home from a long day at work as the sun sets behind them.

_'Wow, I slept all day? I hope nothing important happened at the meeting I missed...' _Bayne walks out of his room into the hall and turns toward the main portion of his house. _'Ooh, I haven't eaten today either I guess. I should probably find something...'_

He walks out into the main room, stopping for a moment at the soft carpeting under his feet. He smiles and flexes his paws into the carpet before continuing into the kitchen. He grabbed a slice of bread and a slab of cold meat from the cooling box.

_'Ugh, cold meat again...but I don't feel like warming it up.'_ he thinks. Walking back into the main room, he stops again, enjoying the carpeted floor beneath him. _'Why didn't they think of this stuff sooner? I'm lucky to live in this newer house. Once I knew what carpet was I wouldn't be able to live without it!'_

He sits down upon his couch, sinking into it's slightly under-stuffed, green cushions. It, along with much of the other stuff in the house, had been given to him by Fortuna for simply delivering messages for his organized resistance. Other small things Bayne had bought earlier on what he received carrying messages for others.

Bayne tears right into the meat. He takes no time to savor it, he simply wants to get something into his stomach. He stuffs the bread into his mouth after it, chewing a few times before swallowing. He sighs and shifts onto his back upon the couch. He stretches his limbs and tail upward into the air, his eyes closed, and brings them down again.

_'I don't see how I could sleep all day...I don't remember waking up but... Oh well, I guess I'll be up most of tonight.'_ He lifts his tail to his chest and uses the scales below his tail-blade to scratch himself. _'Hmm, when did I get a...hole...'_

[][][]

"It's...perfect! Everything is exactly how it was before!" Proletariat says. He rushes around the room, examining every detail with a child-like fervor, bouncing on his heels when ever he briefly stood still. "Even this molding between the ceiling and the wall is the same!"

"I made sure as much as possible was exactly how it had been." Bourgeoisie replies, "The only thing we are missing is...dad's chair."

"Yeah, I made sure you wouldn't get it back when this whole thing started. I'll definitely bring it here though."

"Proletariat...I know I've apologized before, but I'm really sorry about what I did. The culmination of everything that had been going on got to me..."

"It's alright, Bourg. You're my brother and I love you no matter what, no matter how angry I might get." He walks over to his brother and embraces him with his neck.

After a minute, Bourgeoisie pulls back and says, "Um, while Kaja is using the bathroom I need to tell you something to get it off my chest..."

"Sure, whatever it is you can trust me."

"I...killed Titan. What's worse is I lied to Kaja about it. I had plenty of reason to do it, but I can't keep it from her forever!"

"I...don't really think I can help you with that. When you feel you're ready to tell her about it, do so."

"I hoped you wouldn't say that. You know how much pressure deciding puts on me."

Down the hall, the door to the bathroom opened and Kaja came out. The brother's conversation cut short, they smile at her approach. Kaja gives them both a sidelong glance and nods her head once.

"Hmm, you boys look like you were up to something...oh well." Kaja walks over and sits on the couch, the brothers both follow her with their eyes, and she giggles at them. "Well instead of staring at me, though Bourgeoisie can continue if he likes, how about you two have a seat. Since you both know my mother better than I do...I'd love if you could tell me about her."


	9. Chapter 9: Skewed Vision

**Skewed Vision**

**Alright, this is it for this story. It may have been a little short-lived****, but I have big plans for the third and final part. If this story was even marginally good, please review and let me know. Better yet, if it was completely horrible, let me have it and point out every litle mistake and typo. I would enjoy your concrit.**

**Okay, let's get this thing started and finished!**

**Note: Many changes in perspective in this.**

* * *

**'**_Finally…it is finished. Each piece is in the proper place and all the gears are meshing…my plans have come to fruition.' _Spyro thinks.

From his rooftop perch, he looks out into the city, watching the glimmer of lights from businesses and dwellings grow as darkness descends upon the city. He releases his consciousness outward into the city; he allows it to flow throughout, bouncing between minds and giving him a glimpse into the thoughts of all it went through.

'_However…what- what if I fail? If this were to become my swan song…then what? Will I prove to the world that I was merely Malefor's successor, and that the purple dragons are the bane of there kind? Must I let my ambition to change what shouldn't be, become the end should I fall through the cracks? No, it will succeed, I must bring everyone together tomorrow for…a celebration. I shall succeed, but…having a safeguard never hurt…I will send out a message….'_

[][][]

"Kaja, I don't think either of us could really tell you all that much about Cynder. She helped me get my restaurant off the ground, so she must be pretty generous, but we never got to know each other." Proletariat says, "Sure, she poured her heart out to me after I mentioned you fath- err Titan but that was out of guilt and pent up emotion, not trust."

"Also," Bourgeoisie adds. "I may work under her now, but any conversation we have is purely business."

"You could still tell me more than I know, I want to meet her but I don't know how or when to do it! I mean…" she pauses," she seems pretty aloof from where I stand."

"Alright, I'll tell you what I've picked up on from observation." Bourgeoisie says. "First of all I-…um, I-…I am excited for that party tomorrow night!"

"Me too!" Kaja yells. "It is going to be so great!"

"What are you guys- I know! Who'd have thought Spyro would do something like this!" Proletariat shouts.

"So…what were we talking about?" Kaja asks.

"I…don't know, all I can think about is tomorrow night." Bourgeoisie says. With a yawn, he stands to his feet. "Well Prole, I think we should be going, the sun has already set and we still have to work tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, I understand. I don't think I'll open tomorrow though; I could use a day off and what better day than this?"

"Alright well I guess we will see you tomorrow night." Kaja says.

[][][]

As Bayne approaches the center of the city, he hears the uproar created by the whole population of Warfang gathered in the square. All of the market stands had been moved elsewhere, but still the crowd stretched out from the square, reaching out into alleys and main roads, blocking Bayne from entering. From over the crowd a voice, amplified, rings out, calling for quiet.

"Citizens of Warfang," the feminine voice begins, "yesterday, all fugitives who had eluded the simple task of receiving a mark were found. Therefore, the reconciliation and revitalization of Warfang may truly begin. With myself as your leader, your compliance, and the aid of my mate Spyro."

"Thank you, Cynder." the voice Bayne recognized as Spyro's said. "As many or all of you know through the marks you have received I can communicate to your mind and, if need be, influence or stop your actions. Through this, I can monitor almost everyone in the city at once, stopping crime in it's tracks, and doing my best to keep everyone out of harms way. Now, I won't bore you any longer as I am sure you are all excited and full of energy right!" The crowd stirs a bit and a few hatchlings shout out. "Well let's get started then! In a moment this stage here will be taken away, leaving plenty of room for everyone. Several vendors here on the square have offered to provide simple food and refreshments for free. They are marked by the orange signs above the doors."

Moments after the Spyro stepped down and the stage was taken away, the crowd grew back to an uproar. Each word is a strained shout as everyone tried to be heard. Within minutes the crowd has segregated itself. The younger dragons tend to stay toward the back , while the most elderly of them crowd near the front, their numbers having dwindled in recent times. The oldest or poorest of health among them had passed away, and those younger than them could only age so fast.

Bourgeoisie and Kaja stand off near the side, in front of a small side street. Their jobs entitle and expect them to mingle with the upper class, but they are not interested in the politics of the city. However, nor do they want to mix with those of their own or younger age; those who were not as fortunate or successful might tear them down, even if it was behind their backs.

"Excuse me, Mr. Bourgeoisie?" a dragon several years his elder asks.

"Yes, I am he."

"Cynder would like to speak with you about the lawmaking session tomorrow."

"Of course." He looks over to Kaja, "Can she come also?"

"No, sir. It's private talk, you know."

"Right," he turns toward Kaja, "I'll be back soon you don't need to wait here for me if you don't want."

[][][]

Spyro peeks around from the side of the building out to the crowd. He sighs and pulls himself up straight again. Closing his eyes he begins to reach out into the crowd, mentally noting certain dragons as he passed them.

_'In moments, it will be all over…for better or for worse.'_

[][][]

From behind, a claw tapped upon Kaja's back she turned and was met with a blow to the jaw. She fell to the ground and was lifted by two others who follow her assailant. As she becomes more alert, she struggles. Her captors push her down into the small indent of a pointed metal fence; it is hardly big enough for her.

"Hello there, princess." the dark-green, leader of her captors says, "If you play along nicely no one will get hurt, and you'll be free to go."

"And what is that supposed to mean!" she retorts.

"Simple babe, you do what we want and you'll never see us again." he responds. He grins wide and his cohorts chuckle.

"I'm gravid you know, and I have a mate. He will come after you!"

"How could he come after us? Why would he believe you if there is no evidence and trust me, there's never evidence once we are done." The dragon advances and Kaja rears up onto her hind legs, grabbing the fence for support.

"Stay away from me! I've gone through this far too much in my life!" She shouts.

[][][]

Bayne backs out of the group he had been standing in and turns toward the front of the square. He sees one of the oranges signs and heads toward it. He glances around the square at the excitement of every attendee; all spoke quickly and many can't even stand still for very long before having to run and speak with others, and one group was even doing aerial tricks.

Looking back toward the front, a blinding flash of light appears from behind the restaurants. Within seconds every dragon around him has toppled to the ground. Before having even a moment to wonder, Bayne too falls into the heap of bodies.

[][][]

The setting of the sun illuminates Bourgeoisie's closed eyes. Slowly, he begins to turn his head and lift it from the ground, he looks around and sees Cynder's limp body lying across from him. Standing, he walks over; he places his head on her chest and hears nothing. She does not breathe and nor does her heart beat. From the direction of the square Bourgeoisie hears a sound. It begins low, but steadily grows. It is the sound of moaning and sobbing. He runs out into the square and cries at what he sees.

Several are standing, while others pull themselves to their feet. The older dragons lay in front of him, unmoving, dead. Their young , having realized this, are gathered around them, mourning, crying, or praying to the ancestors. In the far back of the square stand several, gathered around the prone forms of hatchlings.

Then, a thought occurs to Bourgeoisie; he runs to the spot where he had left Kaja. Upon the ground are marks from claws being dragged along. Hoping for the best but expecting the worst Bourgeoisie runs in the direction they lead. When he reaches the site, he stops in his tracks. Lying on the ground are three bodies, all dead, all not coming back. Upon the fence is draped another.

"Kaja! Kaja are you alright!" he prods her slightly and she shifts.

Bourgeoisie steps back. He turns away from the center of town and begins walking. He does not break down and cry; he does not become angry and defile the bodies of those who caused it; he simply walks away. Leaving the limp body of Kaja, both her eyes skewered by the fence, for another to find.


End file.
